A Week in the Wadi Rum Desert – Silence, Mindfulness, and the Journey to Myself

I think I have already written once about my stay in the desert. But right now, I find myself reflecting on that special time again, because it shaped me more than I realized back then.

What I have noticed repeatedly in recent years – especially in tourist areas: we hardly ever truly take time. We rush from one highlight to the next, take pictures, and tick off sights. But do we also let the experience sink in? Do we feel the moment? Or are our thoughts already at the next destination?

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Wadi Rum During the Time of Conflict

When I arrived in Wadi Rum in December 2023, the situation in the Middle East was tense. Because of the war between Israel and Palestine, hardly any tourists came. And if they did, they usually stayed only one or two nights. I could understand – on vacation, time is limited and people want to see a lot. At first, I thought rather pragmatically:

• the camp was inexpensive,
• the internet barely worked,
• there were no shops and only a distant village with few supplies.

Perfect conditions to save money – and to limit my online behavior. But honestly: I couldn’t imagine lasting an entire week so far away from civilization.

Already on the bus ride from Amman to Aqaba, the endless desert landscape bored me after two hours. So what was I supposed to do for a whole week? My wallet was convinced it was a good decision – my mind less so.

First Days Between Desperation and Adaptation

The camp itself was beautiful, peaceful, and quiet. But at the beginning, it was hard not to despair. I kept catching myself searching for a signal. Especially at night, when I lay in my tent. In the past, one might have read a book – today, you automatically reach for your phone.

Outside the camp, there was one spot where the internet worked. The camp’s cook and I often walked there, almost obsessively. Not together, each on our own, but with the same goal: a few minutes online.

Over time, though, I got used to it – and discovered that there were indeed alternatives. Suddenly, I could connect with the silence, the mountains, the endless sand.

Encounters, Animals, and the Silence of the Desert

Most tourists who came to the camp seemed stressed. They took photos, ate, slept, joined a tour the next day, and left again. Deeper connections were rare.

One evening, however, we sat together by the campfire with the Bedouins. We laughed, told stories, I booked a tour and had an unforgettable day. Afterwards, it was just me and the cook again.

And yet, it was never completely lonely. Near the camp, there were camels that the Bedouins took to a distant spot in the mornings, probably to graze. In the afternoon, they returned. I sometimes visited them, just stood there and watched. Even in a place where “nothing happens,” there is always something going on – just at a slower rhythm.

A tourist once said: “It’s so quiet here, you can even hear the wings of flies.” And he was right. The silence was overwhelming – but not unpleasant. It was healing. No noise, no distractions – only yourself and your thoughts.

No wonder so many prophets went into the desert to seek answers. I suddenly understood them very well.

Cold Nights and a Lonely Christmas

In December, nights in Wadi Rum are bitterly cold. Even the shower water was freezing. I had wanted to skip Christmas – triggered by an experience before my trip. But I admit: I couldn’t completely let it go.

So, with whatever I had – USB cables, fridge magnets, little things – I decorated a lonely bush in the desert. It became my very own Christmas tree. I sat in front of it, deeply content, calm, without wanting anything more than that moment.

Inner Processes

Before my trip, I hardly cared about world events. But because of the conflict in the region, I was confronted with the topic of war and suffering for the first time. Knowledge, I realized, is a double-edged sword: the more you know, the more questions arise – without simple answers.

And yet, in the desert, I found a piece of inner peace. Not completely, not in a way I could fully explain – but enough to feel that I could move forward.

Farewell to Silence

In the end, I was even afraid to return to the noisy, though beautiful, city of Aqaba. Wadi Rum had shown me how valuable silence is. How much it can transform us if we truly take time, instead of just rushing through.

Conclusion: Wadi Rum Teaches Mindfulness

The week in the desert was a lesson in mindfulness, letting go, and trust. Wadi Rum is not just a sight in Jordan, it is a place that forces you to meet yourself.

If you have the chance, don’t stay for just one night. The desert gives back more, the longer you remain.